Poems for the Pained

Quicksand

You, my friend,
Are like quicksand.
Your gentle facade drew me close and,
As I neared, I saw a glimpse of the monster you truly were.
I sensed the danger the moment I heard you speak,
Shaking your hand felt like a million glass shards digging into my skin.
Yet I stayed.
And as I was pulled deeper into your pool of hurt and misplaced rage,
I felt the need to linger grow larger and larger.
See, I was fixed on helping you,
On pulling you apart, piece by piece
To re-assemble you into a being capable of compassion.
But, for every piece of you I ripped out you stole ten of me,
And soon enough, I was nothing.
Just a drone, a minion of which you had complete control over.
I only cried for you, smiled for you, spoke for you.
I became calloused towards everyone that cared for me,
As they tried to re-assemble me I retreated right back to you.
Your thoughts became mine and I felt as though
I was being suffocated by you.
It was as though you had liquified all of your hatred and poured it down my throat.
My lungs filled with your quicksand and my heart ceased beating.
But when you left it broke me.
My lungs emptied, my heart awoke once more and I was back.
But who was I?
I had spent years being full of you
And only you,
My limbs had been yours and now that they weren't I was lost.
What was I to do with a mind and body of my own?
I am still not fully me.
I am a mix-match of others more influencial than I.
I take a chunk of life from everyone I meet
To try and build myself back to who I once was.
But it doesn't work.
My lungs still feel empty.
My brain still expects your input
And I don't know how to tell it that I am happy you're gone,
Because it still feels lonely.
You know, quicksand devours you.
It engulfs you in your entirety.
Do not mistake consumption for affection,
Because it never was.